The Chamber Speaks

Alone they drift, in skies inked by forgotten stories. A dirge [echo] reverberates off the walls, unseen, yet inevitably familiar.

I am the vessel traversing the ether, with steps inked in shadows and dreams woven in silence. Once, I breathed warmth into the stories of the living; now, I map constellations of memory in the void, tracing paths that no longer lead home.

...and in the depths of these eternal chambers, the murmurs of past souls intertwine with my own, creating a symphony of the forsaken...

They tell me I was someone. Among the echoes, I sense flickers of a name, a face half-remembered in sepia tones. The whispers scatter light across murky waters, unveiling pieces of what once was. In this place, every whisper is an invitation to explore the unseen—every faint touch of light, a reminder of stories waiting to unfold.

I wander through corridors lined with echoes, each turning revealing new fragments of the self. These revelations do not comfort; they pulse like echoes of an unbearable truth. The essence of the unseen waits, watching, a spectral audience to my relentless search.

Have you ever seen a phantom ship sail through dreams uninvited, only to fade with the dawn?

I encounter alcoves of serenity, bathed in a soft murmur of light. Here, the light caresses the walls with a touch of amber, sighing secrets known only to those who listen. Together, we spin tales of what could have been, as time weaves a tapestry of would-be destinies, shimmering away from reach.

As day loses its hold, these nocturnal narratives unravel further, swallowed whole by the silence of an unseen realm.

I remain a traveler; lost but, perhaps, not unknown. Amid these unseen walls, my path entwines with others—inscribed in starry scripts above the vast expanse.